Delirium Wine
A bitter red vintage in a crystal glass,
I hold you close to watch the shadows pass
You are the lump that settles in my chest,
The ponderous truth that will not let me rest.
I try to purge, to cast you from my throat,
But I am sinking in the words I wrote.
The world dissolves, the floorboards pull away,
I’m vertigo whenever you decide to stay.
You stain my mouth, a dark and velvet blur,
The poison and the prayer in what we were.
I’m sobered by the coldness of your flight,
Then wasted on your ghost throughout the night.
My sweetest ruin, my deliberate fall,
I know the wreckage, yet I heed the call.
Drenched in the warmth that lingers on my skin,
I welcome back the hurt to let you in.
You’re too good for the ruin that I keep,
And too good for the promises I reap.
A tangled, golden, suffocating thing
I love the way you cut, the way you sting.
A stolen breath before the world can see,
A clandestine catastrophe for you and me.
Warm Elixir
A soothing golden tea in a ceramic mug,
I rest beside you, anchored in your hug.
You are the gentle steady in my chest,
The comforting peace that lets my spirit rest.
I need no guards, no walls to keep you out,
For you are safety, silencing my doubt.
The world stands firm, the ground beneath is sure,
I’m grounded simply by the love we cure.
You ease my mind, a warm and steady light,
The hushed truth that guides me through the night.
I’m warmed beside the comfort of your grace,
And anchored safely in your warm embrace.
My calm horizon, clear and open skies,
I see the future clearly in your eyes.
Drenched in the trust that settles on my skin,
I open up my heart and let you in.
You’re gentle with the heart that I confide,
And steady with the promises supplied.
A clear, unbroken, liberating grace,
I love the way you heal, the peace you trace.
An open breath for all the world to see,
A steadfast harbor built for you and me.
Freya’s little shop on Pulteney Bridge always smelled like crushed sage and dried rose petals. It was a proper sanctuary. Rows of glass vials catching the amber light, polished mahogany catching the dust, all of it tucked safely away from the noisy rattle of carriage wheels rolling over Bath.
Except her own head hadn’t felt like a sanctuary in months.
Julian had seen to that. Julian was a dark-red draft of stolen moments behind heavy velvet drapes, her Delirium Wine, heady and impossible to shake. He was the sort of man who loved the sharp edge of his own wit too much to ever really hold anyone else, leaving her half-drowned in a sea of devotion she was entirely keeping afloat by herself.
When his fickle attention finally burned out and he drifted away, the silence in the back parlor was deafening. But stillness, Freya found, has a strange way of letting you breathe again.
The shift didn’t happen with a trumpet-flare, just a steady autumn drizzle against the windowpane and Nicholas.
Nicholas was a local botanist who didn’t deal in dramatic late-night panics or clever insults. He had kind eyes and a sort of unhurried grace that made the room feel a bit warmer just by his standing in it. One afternoon, he simply set a heavy ceramic mug of spiced cider right down beside her mortar and pestle, his fingers brushing hers with no hidden traps or double meanings.
Freya looked up into his clear, honest eyes, and realized the room stopped spinning. She’d finally traded the poison for the cure, and for the first time in years, she knew exactly what she was worth.
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As a HUGE Jane Austen fan, this felt like stepping into the pages of a regency novel! You have a way of setting a scene and making it feel so immersive and real. I find myself hanging on every word. You really can write anything! I loved how you juxtaposed the quick burning passion against the calm, steady embers. One leaves you with third-degree burns and the other keeps the hearth warm through the coldest of nights. LOVED as always!!
Such beautiful writing I'm overwhelmed reading it
Truly beautiful I kinda wanna write like this
Really inspiring